#wlw problems

The second she returned from 2014 with the mind stone, she knew. She came back with that smirk you had quickly fallen in love with. But it vanished just as fast when she saw Clint standing alone, a solemn look on his face.

“Clint, where’s Y/N?” Bruce finally asked the question everyone was too afraid to voice.

Clint didn’t respond right away. He didn’t even glance at Bruce. Instead, he fell to his knees and slowly raised his head to look at Natasha.

Her face was stoic. But her eyes—her eyes held that same scared look from the day they first met.

Everyone silently turned their gaze toward her. Natasha remained terrifyingly expressionless.

That was a week ago.

Today, Natasha stood in front of the door to your shared apartment.

She hadn’t been there since before the final war against Thanos.

The moment she stepped inside, she was hit with the familiar scent of your presence.

She ignored the key bowl near the entrance—the one holding your keys with those silly, annoyingly loud keychains you insisted on buying.

As she moved through the apartment, her chest grew tighter with each step. Her eyes stayed fixed on the floor, avoiding the photographs hung up on the walls.

Her hand curled around the doorknob to your shared bedroom. She hesitated, silently cursing herself for being so weak. With a sharp breath, she pushed the door open.

The first thing she saw was a pair of your socks sticking out from under the bed—not well hidden, of course. You always had a habit of leaving clothes everywhere.

It brought her back to that morning a week ago, when you were both getting ready to head to the Avengers compound. Natasha was in the bathroom, the door left ajar, while you were in the bedroom getting dressed.

“Don’t leave the room a mess!” she had shouted from inside.

“I’m not!” you had yelled back.

You’d tried to kick the socks under the bed without her noticing, but Natasha’s spy-trained ears heard the shuffling. She just smiled shaking her head.

In any other situation, that memory would’ve made her smile. But now, it made her sick to her stomach.

She walked into the bathroom, peeling off the clothes that suddenly felt dirty and suffocating. Stepping into the steamy shower, she closed her eyes, letting out a trembling sigh as the scorching water eased the tension in her muscles—and the sweet sting of hot water hitting the open wounds scattered across her body.

When she opened her eyes, a single strand of your hair clung to the shower wall.

She swallowed hard, the knot in her throat threatening to choke her.

She couldn’t even bring herself to use the body wash or shampoo. You were the one who took the time to open every single scent at the store, determined to find the best ones.

Back in the bedroom, she made her way to the vanity. It was still scattered with your makeup—untouched, exactly as you’d left it. And there, sitting quietly among the mess, was your engagement ring.

You always took it off before missions.

Too afraid of losing it.

She slipped into a pair of shorts and one of your shirts—the scent of you still clinging to the fabric.

Natasha couldn’t bring herself to lie in your bed alone.

Instead, she grabbed a blanket and wandered into the living room.

A soft scratch at the window caught her attention.

Liho, the alley cat you used to care of.

Natasha was never fond of the animal, but she couldn’t bring herself to ignore him

now.

She quietly opened the window. The cat strolled in like it was the most natural thing in the world. And in a way, it was. Liho followed his usual path to your spot on the couch.

He settled on the cushion next to where you always sat. Then, turning to Natasha, he let out a soft meow.

Her stomach dropped.

It’s as if he knew. He knew you were gone.

She stood frozen in her place.

Only coming back to reality when she realized she had to breathe.

“I can’t be here.” she thought.

She rushed to the front door, slamming it behind her, not caring to lock it.

As she stepped out into the cold brisk late October air shes awakened by the loud city of New York.

Sitting on a nearby bench to catch her breath.

“You shouldn’t have come alone.” Said a deep raspy voice standing beside her.

As he takes a seat beside her, she looks up at him.

After a couple minutes of silence, he speaks up, “I’ve spent the last week thinking about what I should say to you.” He clears his throat.

“I don’t blame you, Clint.” Natasha looks him the eyes.

He looks away, tilting his head to blink away the tears building up.

“I know.” He sighs “But I blame myself.” He looks back at Natasha.

He stares her in the eyes, hating that they hold so much sympathy.

Not being able to bear the look in her eyes he looks away.

“I don’t…” He takes in a deep shaky breath, “I don’t know what im supposed to feel or do. I can’t help but feel guilty for not just letting it be her but for me living.” This causes Natasha to react, “Hey, don’t you fucking dare, she made her choice. Don’t pull that shit. Don’t dishonor her sacrifice by living in guilt.” She says unforgivingly harsh.

Clint wipes away any fallen tears. “Funny, that’s exactly what Laura said.” he halfheartedly chuckles. “Speaking of she’s actually the one who told me you would be here. She wanted me to come comfort you.” He looks over at Natasha “Funny, she knows I don’t need comforting. Im fine.” Natasha says

“Then what are you doing out here Nat?” This causes Natasha to purposely avoid looking in Clint’s direction.

"Right." Natasha looks out to the city, blinking away the built up tears.

It got quiet again.

"As we stood there..." Clint began "Don't.' Natasha states.

"I need to." Clint says before continuing, "Standing there we both tried to find a way around it but...we quickly realized it would have to be one of us." He lets out a shaky breath as if he's reliving it. "I fought so hard Nat." Natasha coud hear the pain in his voice

"I know how much she meant to you. She was the love of my life. but she was your Best Friend." Natasha looks up at him

This pushes Clint over the edge, "No, Nat, you cant just continue to say its fine. That I should accept it. But you weren't there!" He raises his voice, slightly trembling. "You didn't see her fight me for it. You didnt see the look on her face when she knew it was over! I had her hand..." He begins to break down but that doesnt stop Natasha.

"You think I don't replay that day every night? You think I don't hate you just a little for coming back without her?" Now she's the one rasing her voice "But I know her. I know she fought you too. That's who she was. So fucking stubborn, always ready to throw herself off a cliff if it meant saving us." Natasha's breath hitched, turning to try and blink away the tears.

Her throat is begining to tighten, "I kep waiting for her to walk through the door, Clint. And when she doesn't-" Her words caught. Trying to swallow the knot in her throat she looks away.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I've never experinced loss before." Natasha is begining to rush her words as shes trying to catch her breath. "What do I do with her coffee creamer? Because I certainly won't drink it in my coffee. She knows how much I hate sweetner in my coffee. What about her makeup? It's not my shade. And that damn fucking cat."

Silence falls between them. The world still moving around them.

For the first time in a week, she let herself cry. Neither of them felt completely alone in their grief.